“Here, my friend, come, you ride with me.” Mohammed slid a box off the bench seat of his golf cart and motioned for me to sit. Our destination was not far, but rather than jog at his side in the mid-day heat of a “black flag” day I accepted his offer. As we worked our way through the maze of chain link fence draped with sniper net, I continued to film Guantanamo’s librarian while he drove…

My eyes were stinging from the pepper spray that was making the guy I was sitting on scream, and while I waited for Todd to come back from the patrol car I tried to remember exactly how it was I ended up doing this for a living…

It was 4:30 am. The sky was still pitch black overhead, but beneath me a sea of fluorescent light stretched into the distance. I was alone in a guard tower overlooking Camp Delta – a sprawling mass of buildings, fences, and seemingly endless barbed wire…

We’ve lost the trail again. Wet snow stings my face as I post hole back to the last piece of flagging. Visibility is dropping, and the pink marker is already out of site just a hundred feet back. There, found it. Whipping in the wind, it’s tied to a snag where the trail leaves some trees. Ok, start over, where does it go from here… come on, think…

Skies were clear at 17,600 feet this morning, but brisk winds forced a brief delay of the first annual Women’s Low Pressure Golf Association Khumbu Open. At the foot of Mt Everest, this historic event marked a milestone in high altitude golf competition, and by noon the glacier’s edge was packed with an international crowd…

Climbing Ranger in Yosemite National Park after studying philosophy at Yale before telling stories with cameras = sees the world as a jungle-gym, believes questioning one’s beliefs is as important as the beliefs themselves, and openly admits to loving his life